


Rose

by iridescentspirit



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Angst, Angst and Drama, Angst and Feels, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Jealous Link, Pining, Post-Twilight Princess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23392195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridescentspirit/pseuds/iridescentspirit
Summary: Now the Queen of Hyrule, Zelda has been implored by her council to marry to carry on her bloodline. Link, her personal guard, finds this to be a particularly difficult task as he has fallen in love with her, and watching her fall in love with someone else is more painful than he anticipated.
Relationships: Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 88





	Rose

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by a poem I read a while back. This is the first thing I have posted in many, many, many years.
> 
> "she was a rose  
> in the hands of those  
> who had no intention  
> of keeping her"
> 
> -Rupi Kaur, Milk and Honey

Link’s boots tap softly on the marble floors of the castle, which are gleaming brilliantly underfoot. The tall columns have been scrubbed spotless and the banisters of the curved stairs polished to perfection. Not a speck of dust or dirt can be seen anywhere, not even floating in the empty spaces where the sunlight filters in. Link frowns and his dark golden eyebrows furrow. The castle is unusually immaculate. He wanders through the halls, observing fresh Hylian daisies in vases and shining suits of empty armor.

Link rounds a corner into the kitchens and nearly bumps right into a scullery maid. She yelps and almost drops the bucket of foamy water she is clutching in her chapped hands. He recognizes the pale face and mousy hair wrapped in a messy bun.

_Daya! Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you._ Link observes the woman’s face and reads the stress in the lines of her forehead. _What’s going on?_

Daya huffs and blows a strand of hair out of her hazel eyes. _Haven’t you heard? One of the queen’s suitors is arriving today. The first of many. Or so they say._ Daya shrugs.

Link blinks. Suitors? A dull sense of panic swells in his stomach and Daya shoots him a knowing look, a corner of her mouth is turned up in a wry smile. Link’s amiable expression sours.

_Suitors? What for?_ He can’t hide the indignation in his voice.

_Oh, Link. Sometimes you are a fool. You must’ve known this was coming._ Daya rolls her eyes at Link in both amusement and pity. He frowns once more and turns on his heel to leave. He walks stiffly through the castle and keeps his eyes peeled for one person in particular. He finds her in one of the many parlor rooms. She is sitting with some of her ladies-in-waiting; they are chatting and sipping on steaming tea.

The queen is radiant, as usual. Link’s breath catches in his throat and he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too broadly at the mere sight of her. The guard he had left with her pulls Link’s attention.

_I thought you were on lunch?_ Berton asks. Link feels his ears grow warm.

_Turns out I wasn’t hungry._ He says simply, dismissing the fellow soldier. Link replaces him and stands at attention. Zelda’s crystal eyes are drawn to the movement and their gaze slides effortlessly over him, unseeing, and then settles back on her company. On a normal day, Link wouldn’t have been so hurt by this, it’s not uncommon for Zelda to appear to see past him, through him. But today, Link’s heart notches in his ribcage and deflates like a wounded bird. He swallows the pain. His ears twitch at the sound of Zelda’s melodic voice and he tries to melt into his surroundings as he listens to her.

_It is not exactly my decision, but the council would like to see me married._ Zelda seems unbothered, which agitates Link. Zelda has undertaken her role as queen exceptionally well. Her reign is just, and every decision she makes comes with careful deliberation; Hyrule has prospered under her gentle rule. How could a marriage improve upon it?

One of the ladies in the room giggles and sets her porcelain tea cup on its tiny egg-shell white plate. It clinks delicately. _I hear many rumors about these different men. They say some of them are quite dreamy. Tall and handsome and intelligent._ Another woman sighs whimsically.

They exchange secondhand knowledge of the dukes and princes from surrounding kingdoms and all the while Link forces the burning in his throat to settle at the bottom of his stomach. Daya was right, he should have foreseen the push for a royal wedding. No doubt the simple people of the kingdom would be encouraged to finally see their queen married, knowing that as her sacred bloodline continues to flourish so, too, will Hyrule.

This disquieting thought wiggles its way into Link’s consciousness like an unwelcome worm to a ripe fruit. His attempts to tamp it out are unsuccessful, and the hero finds himself prisoner to the knowledge that Zelda will have to have an heir. He can’t help but picture her in the arms of a faceless man, one who will father her children. Link’s eyes squeeze tightly shut like a vault and he tries to wipe the image from behind his lids, but he can’t, it’s all he can see. His heart clenches, a painful fist in the cavern of his ribcage, pumping poison vigorously through his blood stream. A numbing sensation spreads out from a place behind his tongue; he knew he would never have had a chance with her, he knew his place was as a protector and not a lover, but still his heart had dared to long for her. It had conjured up a delusional dream of returned affection, now pulverized to ash in his mouth by the queen’s acceptance of suitors.

He is so stuck in the murky depths of his own self-pity and shattered hopes that he doesn’t realize when the women have concluded their tea.

_Is the honorable hero eavesdropping on the secrets of ladies?_ A teasing voice says behind him; her breath whispers against the nape of his neck and his skin tingles. For a moment, all despair is forgotten, and Link turns his head to meet the face of his queen. She is watching him closely and her eyes are bright with amusement.

_It’s hard not to overhear when you have hearing advanced enough to listen to the gods._ Link quips, jokingly. Zelda’s rosebud lips quirk into a smile and he grins back at her; his head is fuzzy now and his vision blurs around the edges. Zelda has a way of erasing all discontent without even trying. She has no idea of the effect she has on him, the way that she holds his heart so completely in her soft hands. She beckons him into the parlor.

She retreats back into the room, but Link still stands at the entrance, back nearly flush with the door he closes behind him. She seems to contemplate her surroundings as she gathers her thoughts. The queen is often lost in thought. A summer breeze blows in through an open window and dislodges some of her sandy brown hair, revealing the smooth white skin of her collar bone. Before he can stop himself, Link wonders what it would feel like to press his lips there. He feels heat rise to his face and he looks away from the reverent beauty of his queen to watch the tall green trees dance in the wind. She doesn’t seem to notice.

_I would be pleased if you granted me allowance to your opinion of this whole… ordeal._ Zelda finally says. Link’s eyes shoot back to Zelda in surprise. She is asking him what he thinks?

_Why do you ask?_

Something passes through Zelda’s careful expression. It flickers by so swiftly that even Link’s lupine eyes cannot decipher it before it slips away. She smiles casually and Link’s breath stops for a moment. _Curiosity, I suppose; and I do quite value your opinion, you know._

That’s all he needs. Link opens his mouth to tell her despises the idea, as is his first instinct, but the words catch unexpectedly in his throat, and he gapes like a fish. Zelda’s perfect brow arches, waiting. Link’s lips meet back together slowly. He wants to tell her of the feelings he has harbored for her over the years, how he has yearned for her love. He wants to be able to properly express to her that every smile she gifts to him lifts the clouds of his mind and the way her eyes sparkle in the sun rivals even the most beautiful treasures he has been witness to. Her voice, so soft and sweet, like the gentle melody of a harp, sends thrills up his skin. He is certain her beauty could bend the stubborn mountains of Snowpeak to her will, in the same way he is certain her intelligent wisdom surpasses that of every brilliant mind in the kingdom. She is unmatched in every possible way Link could imagine. His love for this enigmatic woman is restrained by a flimsy lock just waiting to be picked and opened, to flow forth like a river that has burst through its dam.

But this is not his place. Link is no duke, no prince. He is a farm boy from Ordona, he is her guard. He cannot even tell her the way he detests this plan of the council’s; he knows to do so would come from jealousy, and not from duty to her and his kingdom. It would be unbridled selfishness to try and prevent her from moving forward on a plan he begrudgingly accepts as beneficial to Hyrule.

Link fortifies the lock on his affections, Zelda is still patiently waiting for his response. Finally, _I’m no diplomat, Zelda. I can’t speak to what is or isn’t best for the kingdom. I trust your judgment above all else. Whatever you believe is right, I’ll support you._

It’s a stock answer, he is certain he has said it to her before on the few occasions she has confided in him matters of importance with respect to Hyrule.

Zelda nods. _The council seems to believe it a proper plan. If I am to provide an heir to reign when I am gone, then a marriage is necessary._

Link flinches at the words, but Zelda does not see him. She has focused her attention on the empty fireplace before her. Link recognizes that she is deeply entranced in thought. Silence stretches uncomfortably between them until, finally, the queen seems to remember he is present. She smiles, thanks him for his honesty, and dismisses him for the day. His honesty. What honesty has he given her? He hastily exits the room before he can backtrack on his words, before his selfish wishes can break the barrier he has so reluctantly built.

As he passes through the door, he does not see the frown and furrowed brow Zelda gives to his retreating back.

////

The castle is busier than Link has ever seen it, save for the day of Zelda’s coronation. Every day castle servants scramble through the halls attending to the many visitors. The men come and go like a trail of ants carrying crumbs of a cracker; a wheel of suitors hoping to win the heart of the queen who rules over the most powerful kingdom in the world.

And Link is privy to it all, though he wishes he weren’t; but he is the queen’s personal guard, where she goes, he must follow. He listens to their conversations and watches their interactions. Many of them are arrogant, they traipse through the tall doors of the castle with unwarranted confidence and then leave through them with sulking shoulders and raw egos as they are rejected by the queen. Link takes personal enjoyment in this, when he sees she is not interested in them. Link knows Zelda well enough to discern the high pitch of a falsified laugh, how the blue in her eyes seems to fade just a shade when she is bored of listening to the self-congratulatory words of particularly vain companions. He knows he won’t see them much longer.

But every now and then one comes through that seems to delight her. Her white smiles reach shining eyes, laughs smooth and warm as a summer night’s breeze. Link dislikes these men more than the arrogant ones. They offer her intelligent conversation and gifts of wit that keep her interested, wanting. Things he cannot give her himself with the rudimentary education he received as a child. These intelligent men are the ones Zelda invites to tea more than once, the ones she asks to accompany her to the library where they will talk for hours over some ancient dusty tome. All the while, Link looks on, trying in vain to shut it all out. But he can’t, he can’t help but notice all the ways that Zelda is drawn to these men.

It has made Link moody; castle-goers have learned to avoid him in the rare instances that he is found walking alone. All but one.

_You must stop sulking, Link._ Daya says, catching him in the kitchens as he bites around an apple. He glowers down at the red fruit but says nothing. The scullery maid sighs and sits on a stool beside the hero. _I understand. You spend so much time together. How can you not be drawn to someone so beautiful?_

Link crunches on his apple and swallows so hard he almost chokes. _She is more than beautiful, you know._ He says back, taking another chunk out of his meager breakfast. He doesn’t notice the pained expression on Daya’s face.

_Of course._ She says. She reaches a hand out and places it on Link’s forearm; this draws his attention up to the woman’s freckly face. _But she is your queen. You are her guard. You must know it’ll never happen._

Link’s eyes turn to blue fire. _You think I don’t know that?_ He asks her, shifting out from her touch. He feels hot, his anger is sudden and poisonous. _I didn’t really mean for this to happen. Believe me, I would’ve loved to spare myself the heartache._ He stands to leave, tossing his apple core out of the nearby open door for the cuccos. _I don’t need your condescension._

Before Daya can say another word, Link walks stiffly out, his feet pounding the stone floor the way his heart pounds in his ears, loud and enraged.

Of course, Zelda was his queen, of course, he was her guard. But they were more than that to each other, too. Or so, Link liked to think.

After the end of the twilight invasion and Midna’s departure, Link had followed Zelda back to the castle, where she had offered him a position as guardsman and knight potential trainer. He had accepted, and they had taken comfort in each other over their traumas, and through it grown closer. His love for her had not been immediate; it had come slowly over time, over many sleepless nights and secret midnight tea meetings with watery eyes and pink cheeks raw from rubbing away tears. They had seen each other through their worst moments, they were bonded. It was from these experiences that Link’s affection first took root, burgeoning into a deep love. The depth of her affection was not so easy to read, but he knew she valued him as a confidant and a friend.

To the outside world, Link and Zelda had a purely professional relationship. To him, she is a dear friend. And watching her grow closer to these other men for the purposes of love and marriage is tearing his heart in two. It’s like watching water slip from his fingers before he can bring it to his parched lips. She was the water he had wanted so desperately to hold on to. But she was never his to hold.

////

Zelda looks at _him_ in a way that would have brought Link to his knees if he had been the blessed recipient of her golden gaze. Jealousy flares within the hero and he averts his eyes from the scene to keep his chest from bursting open. Zelda and her beau, the man she has chosen as her betrothed, Duke Ansel, opted to take a stroll through the garden before supper and Link, as Zelda’s dedicated protector, is lingering behind them like a dejected shadow. Her arm is intertwined with the lord’s and her eyes are shining up at him like brilliant blue jewels while he talks. She peers up at him in utter adulation, as though he hangs the silver stars in their black velvet sky every night just for her to gaze upon.

According to every romantic in the castle, just as Zelda holds the moon on a string, Lord Ansel commands the sun. According to them, the pair couldn’t be any more befitting of each other, two complementary halves of a perfect circle. Link wishes he could disagree, his whole body yearns to reject the notion of their union, but he isn’t sure he can.

Even now, watching them as they peruse the masses of pure white gardenia blooms and sit on the lip of a small fountain, Link feels as though he is intruding on a most intimate meeting. It feels wholly wrong to be witness to their moment of quiet discussion and affectionate banter. He shuts his ears to most of it, but he cannot shut his eyes.

Duke Ansel is tall, far taller than Link or Zelda, and he has a shock of thick inky black hair that he parts to the side like royal drapes. His eyebrows are sharp and defined, accenting grey eyes that transform to liquid silver in the light. His voice is deep and smooth, and when he laughs Zelda lights up like a beacon. He was one of the last who came to visit and the only one the queen allowed to stay. But Ansel wasn’t just a pretty face; he was the second most intelligent person Link had ever met. He held no candle to Zelda, but he came pretty close.

Ansel was able to provide Zelda all the things Link couldn’t give her and much more. He had brought companionship more intimate than Link would have ever dared, but also beauty and more intellect than the hero ever dreamed of having. He was a package meant for the queen, wrapped in elegance and fitted with a fanciful bow.

Ansel places a kiss on Zelda’s soft cheekbone and a blush rises to her pointed ears. Link’s eyes burn and he clenches his jaw so tightly he thinks his teeth might break. Zelda laces her fingers with Ansel’s in response to his kiss and brings his hand to her lips. Her eyes never leave his, they command his attention, and he happily obliges. The acid in Link’s stomach rises as he witnesses their loving exchange and he wants to look away. He wills his head to turn, his eyes to close, his neck to bend, his body screams to move, but he cannot. He is rooted to the spot, watching hopelessly as Zelda falls further in love with this man.

Ansel stands and excuses himself briefly, promising he will return to fetch her so that they may eat together. She smiles softly and whispers for him to hurry back. She gazes up at him through long lashes and Ansel presses his lips to hers. She responds to him almost instantaneously. Her hands reach up to his jaw and beckon him closer; his hands get lost in the tresses of her sandy hair. Link can almost feel the burning desire radiate from the couple, his senses pick up on the heated passion and physical tension between the two. They are bathed in the golden light of sunset, above them are splashes of flaming orange and rich pink; it’s a picture Link knows the castle portrait-maker would love to see, to paint. It’s more than he can bear.

Silently, fighting every duty-driven cell in his body, Link turns on his heel and creeps away through the flowers, leaving the couple to their intimacy. He knows it’s wrong, he knows to do it is to shirk his responsibility, it’s quite possibly a crime. But the pain is nearly unbearable. His body has been the recipient of much damage, he wears the scars to prove his adventures, but every wound he suffered pales in comparison to the way his heart now agonizes.

He feels it pounding furiously against his ribs, it’s beating so hard it feels like it’s pushing him forward, encouraging his retreat from the source of its pain. But his brain demands he turn around and go back; he is her guard first, it is his goddess-given duty to stay by her side. His emotional turmoil does not take priority over his queen. _Turn around!_

He feels at war with himself, his body is the battleground for his heart and his mind, but the injuries he sustains now are internal, no scars will rise and heal on his flesh in this fight. His skin prickles with bitterness and his hands curl into fists so tight his fingernails cut into his palms. The dull pricks of pain bring him back down for a moment, and he stops in his path. He is still in the gardens, he could go back, no one any wiser to his near abandonment of the woman he swore to watch over.

_Back to watching her love someone else?_ His chest seizes, and his feet carry him forward once more.

_No more today._ He whispers brokenly to himself. Pieces of him chip away with every step he takes; he feels like his soul is slowly draining out of him, pooling under his feet and sinking into the dirt of the gardens, watering the flowers that sway their approval in the wind. He never knew his heart could ache so violently, never suspected that the emotional toll of watching his love fall in love with someone else could elicit a pain so severe his whole body would crumble under the weight of it.

Step by step, he slogs through the gardens with lead feet until he reaches the cold embrace of the castle walls. And then he pushes forward still, out of the castle, out of the courtyard. He feels a little bit lighter, like he has shed himself of a heavy cloak. His relief is only temporary, tomorrow he will return to his queen, and he will continue to keep her close while he watches her drift from him. But tonight, he will find solace in the bottom of a tankard of ale.

Zelda, with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, searches for the hero, but finds flowers are her only companions.

“Link?” She asks into the night. Only the crickets answer her.

_////_

_Goddesses above, haven’t you heard?_

The castle is abuzz with the chattering gossip of every jabbering jaw and loose lipped inhabitant. Their story weaves through the winding halls like a plague, easing from the eager tongues of scullery maids to soldiers to page boys. It winds its way all the way down to Link, who sets off from the soldier’s barracks immediately upon hearing its contents.

_Queen Zelda’s matrimony with Duke Ansel is only days away—_

Link catches snippets of conversation from others as he stalks through the castle. He fights to keep his vision clear, but it’s rapidly blurring red at the edges. He knew this had all been a bad idea.

_He was found in his chambers—_

_He was supposed to be out hunting fowl—_

Link prowls through the halls like a predator, he’s not sure what to expect, not sure he will even come across his prey. But if he does… Link shouldn’t have left Zelda’s side. In his wallowing and pathetic self-pity, Link had chosen to train today instead of accompanying the queen to her study. He curses himself.

_Queen Zelda had a maid deliver a gift to Ansel’s chambers. Had meant for it to be a surprise while he was out—_

Link can hardly hear the conversations, now. His blood is singing a battle cry in his veins so loud he can hear it, drowning out the rest. He should have been there when it happened, to help cauterize the wound upon reception.

_But the poor queen, she was the one for a surprise—_

A threat presses against Link’s teeth, fighting to break out. He wants to make them stop talking; if he had been there, he would have ebbed the flow of babble before it had gotten so out of hand. But he hadn’t been there. Link clenches his jaw and storms past every group of mindless blabbing idiots.

_He was found in bed with another woman!  
_

In his mind’s eye, Link is able to picture the worthless bastard of a duke scrabbling down the halls of the castle, shouting obscenities as he chases after the poor maid who had walked in on him and his paramour.

Link rounds a corner and finds himself facing the back of the very man who has caused the uproar in the castle. Ansel is pounding his fist against the doors of Zelda’s study. Somewhere through his blind rage, Link observes the white chemise that Ansel has thrown on, the haphazard way it has been tucked into his unlaced trousers, which are threatening to slip from his hips even as he frantically grabs at them to keep them steady.

Link growls, but Ansel doesn’t hear him over his own pleas through the oak doors. The hero stomps up to Ansel and grabs the back of his shirt. Ansel falls back with a yelp, and Link slams him against the opposite wall. He grips the collar of the duke’s shirt, blue eyes feral and challenging.

Ansel takes a moment to register the man in his face, and then, as though Link had uttered a particularly hilarious joke, the duke laughs. Link bristles wildly.

_Ah, the attack dog has arrived._ Ansel sneers, and that’s when Link realizes that Ansel doesn’t have irises of liquid silver, but rather of cruel gray steel. Link’s fingers curl impossibly tight around the duke’s shirt and he snarls.

Ansel’s face betrays no fear, but his fingers claw desperately at Link’s trying to pry them open to no avail. Link is stronger than Ansel on a normal day, but now, fueled by primal rage and lupine strength, the hero has Ansel in an inescapable death grip.

_Fear not, dog._ Ansel rolls his eyes, keen on upkeeping his nonchalance, but his voice wobbles just enough for Link’s pointed ears to perceive. He swallows down a smug grin. _You can have her. She was never worth the trouble, anyway._

Link goes blind with rage at Ansel’s dismissal of his queen. He brings the man forward and forces him back against the stone wall again, his head slams against the stone with a satisfying _crack._

This time, Ansel’s eyes grow wide in fear and pain.

_Don’t ever speak about Zelda. In any way. Ever._ Link growls. Warm sticky blood starts to dribble down Ansel’s pale neck. Link releases the duke with a shove away from the study _. Leave. If I ever see you again…_ Link trails off with a severe grin, his canine teeth glint dangerously. He is a wolf eyeing an injured weasel, ripe for the taking. Ansel stumbles backwards and then turns his back to run from Link.

Once out of view, Link turns on his heel and then knocks ever so softly on the door of Zelda’s study.

_Zelda, it’s me._ He whispers gently, then hears a quiet click. He pushes the door open and Zelda is sitting at her desk, her head is draped in her hands and her hair hangs down freely around her, shielding her from view. A weeping angel.

Link approaches her like he would a wounded animal, making nary a sound, until he is standing before her. He reaches out and curls a finger gently around one of hers. She drops her hands and looks up at him. Link’s heart wrenches violently from his chest at the sight. Her eyes, once a warm and vibrant blue, like the summer sky, have frozen over into hard glaciers of raw ice. Her soft lips are set in a severe line and her jaw is tense. He has never seen her look so cold, so devoid of life.

Her devastation is vivid in her expression and in the rigid set of her shoulders. She is bent over herself, as though trying to curve her body into itself until she blinks out of existence. Link wishes now that he had driven his sword through Ansel’s back. Suddenly, it feels like a concussion was too simple a punishment for the man’s crimes.

Zelda’s face screws up in pain, her cheeks are still dry, but not for much longer, he thinks. Link opens his mouth, he wants to speak, to console her, but all words vacate his tongue upon the betrayed visage of his beloved.

His ears twitch at the sound of footprints, she seems to hear them too and they both turn their attention to the door. A soldier clunks in, all shining metal and sheepish pride. He is accompanied by a woman Link recognizes as one of Zelda’s handmaidens.

_Here she is, your highness. The woman who was… well._ The woman stands aside, and the soldier pushes forward a woman with mousy hair, freckles, and hands rough with manual labor. His blood runs cold.

_Daya?_ Link asks in horror.

Zelda’s gaze flits between the hero and the scullery maid, suspicious and hurt.

_////_

_Did you know?_ Zelda asks him, her voice is low, deadly. Link’s eyes widen in horror, how could she have ever come to wonder such a thing?

_Zelda, I didn’t. I had no idea._ He says sincerely, then his eyes narrow. _If I had, I would have killed him, myself._ And he would have; if Link had been the one to find Ansel in bed with Daya, he would have slaughtered him where he lay.

Zelda pulls away abruptly and Link relaxes, falling away from the wall she had pinned him to. Her icy eyes melt into pools of clear blue, and she blinks away tears. Something in her face changes, brightens, like she has finally found the solution to a problem she has been trying to solve for years. _Why did you not tell me you loved me?_

Link startles, he chokes on a sharp intake of air as he tries to find a mental foothold for words. _What?_

_I asked you._ Zelda says softly. _I implored your thoughts on the matter of my marriage._ He can hear the hurt lacing her words, but he doesn’t understand why.

_I remember._ He says, his fingers twitch, he wants to reach out to her.

_Why did you not tell me you loved me?_ She repeats, Link swallows painfully. His mouth is dry, and his heart is hammering so loudly in his ears he can hardly hear, let alone think. Zelda scrutinizes him, waiting for his reply. She is impatient, her ears twitch almost imperceptibly.

It occurs to Link suddenly that the meeting so long ago was her way of allowing him an admission of his feelings. She had opened the door for his confession and like a blind fool he had shut it back. _If you knew, then why didn’t you say so?_ He finally says. Zelda turns her back on him, she is agitated now. She lets out a noise of frustration.

_I did not_ know, _I only wondered. I saw the softness in your eyes, Link. A look that seemed reserved for me, and me alone. I suspected but could not confirm. I dared not._ She turns back to him; her eyes are watering again, tears slip down her cheeks. Link aches to wipe them away and kiss her face, but he doesn’t. _Why?_ She whispers, her voice cracks. _Why did you not tell me?_

Standing before the open door of her balcony, lit only by the burning fires of the torches in her bedchambers, she is a picture of desolation, so vulnerable and broken; a woman sculpted by the goddesses and mutilated by the depraved trickery of man. Behind her, the night sky is darker than usual, and the stars twinkle futilely, they cannot conjure up the soft glow that the hidden moon normally provides. _Why?_ She asks again, so quietly Link’s wolfen ears strain to hear her. He starts to burn behind his eyes.

_I couldn’t._ He says simply, but Zelda doesn’t accept this answer.

_You could._ She argues. _You could have. You and I, we—_ She chokes. _We have always been honest with each other. I asked for your honesty that day and you did not entrust me with it. I thought, after all this time, I had been wrong, that I had misread all the signs. I thought you did not love me!_

_Of course, I loved you!_ Link fires back. _I_ still _do! I have never loved a damned person more than you!_ The words stumble out of his mouth before he can stop them, before he can think; the dam has broken. Zelda stands before him; her pink lips are parted slightly. Link shuts his eyes and looks away from her. _But you’re my queen and I’m your guard, that’s all I can ever be._ _I could never be worthy of you._

He can’t see her, but he can feel her bristling. The energy around her shifts, more alive, angrier. It demands Link’s attention, and he looks back at her. Her face is rigid, her jaw is set. He can sense the bewildered anger, and he is confused.

_Not worthy._ She echoes. _How could you possibly think that? After everything you have done for me, for Hyrule. Not worthy?_ The words continue to form on her lips, but she can’t seem to wrap her mind around it. _I could think of none more worthy… perhaps it is I who is not._ Zelda deflates a little, her eyes drift away and Link can feel her slipping from him, her mind wandering somewhere dark and far away.

_Don’t._ Link says. _Please don’t think that._ Zelda continues to gaze into the distance, her eyes are glazing over.

_How?_ She asks again, the question falls off her tongue, a mere afterthought in the clouds of her mind.

_I am a farm boy, from a province not even part of Hyrule. And you, my queen… Zelda, I wanted to tell you. I almost did. But I—I couldn’t. I never truly thought you could return my affections._

Her eyes snap back to him, blazing. _Link, you are a fool. That day you convinced me that I had deceived myself._

_I never meant—_

_If you had only been honest with me… I would have chosen_ you _! Had I known, truly, the depths of your affections I would have chosen you without hesitation!_

Link’s ears are ringing, his head feels faint. Is she really saying what he thinks she is saying? The earth tips forward under his feet, he sways; his center of gravity has shifted its final step, settling within the woman standing before him.

_It should have been you._ She whispers in grim realization.

Zelda’s hands fly to her face, her body shakes with renewed sobs. Link breaks from his reverie, his body moves automatically, he covers the distance between them in two strides and cradles her in his arms. She nestles into his hold, burying her face into his tunic. _I wish you would have told me then. None of this would have ever happened._ He _would have never happened._

Bile builds up in the back of Link’s throat, he’s too late. Zelda admitted her love, but he is too late. Ansel took his place and washed him out, and then Ansel destroyed her.

_I’m so sorry._ He whispers into her hair. He whispers it over and over, he threads his fingers in her tresses, they are softer than he ever imagined. _She_ is softer than he ever imagined. He holds her until her sobs turn gentle, and then subside into sniffles. She pulls away and wipes her nose; the shoulder of his tunic is soaked from her tears. His hands are gently cupped around her elbows. Even now, she is beautiful; the urge to kiss her wet cheeks presses against his muscles.

_I am sorry, too._ She whispers, her voice is thick.

_What do you have to be sorry for?_ He asks, confused. She gazes up at him and his heart thumps painfully, the blue of her eyes reflects so much pain, a pain he knows all too well, but they hold something else, too. Something that Link is hesitant to identify.

_I am broken, now._ She says very matter-of-fact. _He broke me._

Link blinks as her words settle on him, and then he frowns. _Zelda. You aren’t broken, and this pain won’t last forever. Ansel is a damned fool,_ he _is a broken person. You are strong, the strongest person I know._ He squeezes her arms and she smiles gratefully. _I am here, no matter what._ He promises, whisking her into another hug. She accepts it, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him as close as she can muster.

_I do love you, Link._ She murmurs. His heart squeezes painfully. _But I need to heal. I have to mend myself. I do not know how long that will take. I cannot give you myself now, as I am._

_I know._ Link says, and he does. _I love you, too, Zelda. I will wait, if you’ll have me. I’ve waited so long, what’s a little more time?_

Zelda pulls away, her eyes are misty from tears, but she is smiling at him. She kisses his cheek; she doesn’t say anything, but he knows her answer. And for now, that is enough.

Zelda is a rose, beautiful and soft. She had blossomed against adversity and opened her face to the sun, hopeful and gentle. And then she was picked and tossed away at the whimsy of a man. Her edges roughened, her thorns sharpened, but Link is not afraid.

Zelda is a rose, and when she is ready, Link has every intention of keeping her.


End file.
